Best Kept Secret
by lovelielove
Summary: As war approaches, Hermione, Ron, and Harry are each given tasks to complete with professors in their 6th year. Hermione's relationship with her professor gets complicated and care is needed to maintain the budding secret growing between them.  On hiatus.
1. Chapter 1

Best Kept Secret

AN: AU - from end of OoTP. No Slughorn, camping, or random hallows thrown in for this story. Sorry Jo. Inspired by comfortablylaura's deviantart Best Kept Secret (please see my profile for the link) and of course, the brilliant JKR. Thank you

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><p>Chapter 1<p>

Mid-October 1997 - Hogwarts

Hermione Granger paced back and forth in the empty classroom alternately wringing her hands or toying with a loose button at the collar of her shirt, her dragonhide boots thudding quietly on the stone floor, keeping steady double time with the clock on the wall. It was dusk and the sun's last light, shining from the few windows on one wall, cast the whole room, including her worried countenance, in deep shadows and a golden red glow. She'd been pacing for ten minutes, waiting for an hour, eyes fixed to the clock, unable to focus her mind on the books and notes at her work table or to force her body to sit still while her heart pounded wildly in her chest. _He should be here by now. He should be here._ The man was never late. Despite the precarious position he held in the war and all the obstacles that entailed, if he said he would be somewhere at a certain time, he _always _found a way to be there, punctual, if not early. The fact that he was now 25 minutes and 57 seconds late turned her world upside down.

She stopped pacing for a moment before one of the luminous windows, gripping the stone sill, closing her eyes to the ever mocking timepiece, and mentally shook herself. Merlin! One would almost think she were waiting for her lover and not her professor. At that thought, an ache, an emotion she couldn't- wouldn't, put a name to, rose to fill her chest, producing an unexplainable hitch in her breathing. Pushing herself away from the sill with a deep breath and resumed her pacing. It didn't matter. He was her teacher. Her friend. Of course she was worried. One always worried for one's friends when they are put into dangerous situations. Though thinking back, she could hardly remember being more frightened for anyone else, including her mum, dad, and Harry, in her entire life.

Her boots, dragonhide because he'd insisted on her safety even before they were friends, picked up their same agitated cadence where they'd left off. _He should be here by now. He should be here. _The words repeated in her head over and over, but her heart refused to follow logic's path and take her thoughts into further speculation as to why he wasn't. Instead her mind traced back to how, in the space of few short months, her world had begun to revolve around the well-being of Severus Snape.

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><p>Early July 1996 - More than 1 year prior<p>

In the summer before Hermione's 6th year, after the Ministry had finally, _finally, _acknowledged You-Know-Who's return and fear was growing like weeds in the hearts and minds of witches and wizards everywhere, Professor Dumbledore's head appeared in the floo and summoned a startled Hermione from the Burrow to Hogwarts in the middle of breakfast one morning. In her denim shorts and t-shirt, hair still in a tangled plait from a restless night's sleep she stepped through the Headmaster's floo to the sight of a disgruntled Professor Snape. She heard heard his stomach growl and deduced that his breakfast had been interrupted as well. The man flushed faintly, knowing that she had heard and acted as though the chair she had just occupied next to him was empty, staring straight at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk with his fingers pressed together thoughtfully, and without mincing words, no perfunctory offering of sweets or polite inquiries on health, he thrust Hogwart's brightest student and most reviled professor together on a classified project to develop and produce a potion that could repel or neutralize jinxes, hexes, and Unforgivable curses. It was unheard of, and to Snape's mind, impossible. He vented his outrage at wasting his time and abilities in his most forceful, sneering manner to the Headmaster, still ignoring Hermione, as she sat, emotions whirling - pride at being considered skillful enough by such a great wizard, worry that she would fail at the endeavor, and irritation from a niggling memory of something she'd once read. She lost track of the conversation for a moment as she tried to remember what it was, biting her lip in concentration. She did however hear a few protestations against herself - only a child, not in the Order, insufferable. "I haveother _projects _that you have assigned to me, Headmaster," Professor Snape had hissed angrily to the calm Headmaster. "I cannot see how trying to develop a potion that all the Masters and researchers in the field have acknowledged to be unworkable is worth mine or Ms. Granger's time." She looked up at the same time he said her name, not really hearing him, a look of realization dawning on her face.

"Now, now, Severus. You-" Dumbledore was starting his polite you-don't-have-to-like-it-and-I'm-not-_asking-_I'm-ordering-you speech in his most placating tone when he was interrupted.

"Not all the researchers, sir!" Hermione's words had suddenly burst out of her as the niggling memory framed itself into a full recollection. "I remember reading an chapter of a book in the library about-" a scoff here from Snape, but she continued quickly, "a certain ingredient, a kind of ox blood. Something like Reen blood…"

"Re'em blood?" asked Snape disdainfully.

"Yes! - that had potential to do just such a thing if added to the right strengthening draught in a certain way."

"That theory was proven wrong before you were born, girl. The blood of that animal is only good for revitalizing potions, not protective potions."

She shook her head thoughtfully, speaking more to herself than to the teachers in the room. "The idea was shot down because of human error and the rarity of the ingredient, not because the potential wasn't there. The researchers had a good theory, but were incompetent in practice. However, we could recreate it and run more tests, possibly change a few steps. I'm sure I can find the book and…" her words trailed away as she caught the venomous glare of the Potion's Master.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Wonderful, Ms. Granger! I hope you understand what this could to our efforts against Voldemort." Hermione saw, out of the corner of her eye, Professor Snape tense at the name.

She turned her eyes back to the headmaster and said confidently, "I do, sir. Creating a comprehensive protection potion could possibly save hundreds of lives in the next few years if the violence escalates like I think it will. And-" she hesitated, "Harry is my friend, but he isn't ready for a confrontation with You-Know-Who or any Deatheaters without a little help, yet. We were lucky, at the Ministry, to get away with as few injuries as we did. Harry's always been best at defense against the dark arts, but he'd most likely be susceptible to the Unforgivables as they aren't something that he's comfortable doing himself." At this, she snuck another peek at Professor Snape, who was, as usual, scowling, though he hadn't completely hidden his surprise her lack of idealism. Snape believed her to perpetually follow Harry Potter, blindly imagining the boy was invincible. He said nothing, but then her attention was snatched back by Dumbledore's voice.

"Good, good!" he enthused. "I expect you, Ms. Granger to assist in research and brewing whenever you have spare time from your prefect duties and studies. September 2nd, perhaps. And I suggest," he addressed both the potions master and student, "that you wait until the start of the term to begin your research. Enjoy your summer at the Burrow. As you are still an underage student, there is no particular reason for you to frequent Hogwarts in the summer that wouldn't cause suspicion. In the even that you are successful, it will be safer that the potion is kept a secret, lest it fall into the wrong hands. You may, of course, inform Mr. Potter and, by extension, Mr. Weasley that you will be assisting Professor Snape in his brewing. However, I would prefer that you keep the specifics to a minimum. They will be undertaking confidential Order projects of their own." Hermione nodded. "In the mean time, I do believe Professor McGonnagall would be more than happy to receive a visit from her favorite Gryffindor. I'm sure she is in the Great Hall at this very moment."

She jumped up, knowing a dismissal when she heard one, and stuttered an, "Of course, sir." She nodded to each bidding them goodbye. As she walked to the spiral staircase leading out of Dumbledore's office she heard him continue speaking. "And you, Severus?" the Headmaster's voice had dropped into a serious tone, "You will do this one vital task for the Order. The potion that you develop with Ms. Granger may very well turn the tide for the Light." There was a pause, but no answer from a clearly fuming Snape. "And please be kind while she works with you. If you cannot work with the brilliant, Ms. Granger, I may have to give you Mr. Longbottom or Mr. Weasley as a replacement researcher and brew-

"Good God, NO!" Snape nearly shouted. Hermione stifled a giggle on the stairs as she made her way down.

The old man chuckled. "Only joking, Severus."

"Fine," he grumbled.

By the time Hermione arrived back at the Burrow, Harry and Ron were so worked up with curiosity and worry that they immediately pulled her into an empty room asking in low whispers what Dumbledore had talked to her about. She told them what she knew so far, that she would be working with Professor Snape of all people, but, told them that the Headmaster had requested she not tell them everything for safety's sake. They responded with their predictable outrage and pity, but she quieted their ire with reassurances that she was glad to have something to do to help. Later, when Molly asked, Hermione told the Weasleys that Dumbledore and McGonnagall only wanted to talk to her about career options as she was still undecided.

Then, within the week, Ron was summoned to Hogwarts and was summarily partnered with Flitwick to study various dueling and and battle strategies in preparation for any upcoming battles. He returned to the Burrow whitefaces, but excited and as determined as Hermione to help in whatever way he could. Molly was quite proud when Ron told her that he was going to have private dueling tutorials from the master dueler. A few days after that, Harry was summoned to Hogwarts as well. However, he returned grim faced and worried.

"Harry! What is it?" Hermione exclaimed once the three were alone together in Ron's tiny bedroom, concerned. She sat on the edge of Harry's bed.

"Professor Dumbledore's been injured," he replied darkly.

"What? Is that even that possible?"

"What happened?"

Harry shook his head slowly. "I'm not sure. He wouldn't tell me yet. His hand is all black. It's horrible. It looks… dead," he whispered. "He was very weak. And I think it must be extremely painful. I saw him wince more than once, but he plays it off like it's nothing."

Ron gaped, "If he's wounded, why didn't he see Madam Pomfrey? He'd be healed in a trice!"

Harry shrugged. "He hadn't wanted to talk to me about it yet."

"If Madam Pomfrey couldn't heal him…" Hermione, shocked, spoke softly, "it must have been very, very dark magic." The boys nodded in agreement. They sat together in the living room, contemplating silently what could have happened in the past week for the Headmaster to have sustained such an injury. It was a cold reminder that even a great wizard like Dumbledore could be brought low. "Do you have an assignment as well, Harry?" she finally asked to break the somber silence.

At this he perked up. "Yes! I'm going to be taking lessons from Dumbledore!" He disclosed what he knew so far to them. Hermione knew that they were, all three, excited at the prospect of finally being taken seriously and having a role in taking action against Voldemort in an official capacity. But, as they began to speculate on Harry's private lessons, Ron sprawled across his bed, Harry leaning against the dresser, Hermione wondered how their new roles and partnerships would come to shape their friendship in the future.

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><p>AN: I was going to wait until I'd completed the story to post it, but I figure if I post it and hear back from reviewers... *pointed look at potential reviewrs* then I'll be more likely to get off my butt and just finish it. I've got the 2nd and 3rd chapter mostly done, though I'm not sure where this story will go. I have no outline right now, but safe to say there will be romance, fluff, lemons, and probably a sprinkling of angst. I love angst. And romance. And those other things too ^_^ Enjoy and review!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Best Kept Secret

AN: Again thank you to ~comfortablylaura for letting me take liberties with her beautiful picture. Link up on my profile if you'd like to see it! It's JKR's world, I just like to putter around in it.

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><p>Chapter 2<p>

Mid-October 1997 - Hogwarts

_He should be here by now. He should be here. _She'd arrived early to the previously unused classroom they'd made into their own potion's lab. The last time she saw him was in his classroom seven floors below where she was pacing now. He'd extended his hand to accept her class assignment and their fingers had brushed briefly. When her eyes snapped to his, he murmured only, "5:30 tonight."

And so, Hermione skipped dinner, waiting impatiently in their private laboratory. She adjusted some of the flames under the cauldrons and made superfluous notes in their logs. Took inventory of the potions and ingredients lining the walls. Straightened the books they'd collected on the shelves. She'd even adjusted her hair, swept up and out of the way in a way he'd complimented once, and spelled the wrinkles out of her white linen shirt. Then, 5:30 came and went. Impatience turned to worry and worry to alarm. She paced. She wrung her hands. She watched out the window. Then paced some more.

A clock on the wall chimed six times. Her heart sank. _Oh, God. _Hermione knew, where others wondered, why Dumbledore trusted Severus Snape above all others. She knew, where others only guessed, where his loyalties lay. She knew the danger he walked into when he grimaced and gripped his arm and disappeared for hours. He'd told her himself. _Oh, please God, let him be safe! _Hermione's feet led her to the small work table next to hers that he used to write his notes. She was feeling dizzy, so she dug her nails his chair's back until her knuckles shone white. Her mind started to spin with the hundreds of horrible scenarios she'd dreamt up in the middle of the night in her own bed as to the reason why he would one day, _this _day, fail to show up.

She couldn't seem to breathe properly, the pressure building in her chest was so tight. There were black spots floating on the edges of her vision and the sting of unshed tears burned the back of her nose. _Don't pass out, Hermione. Don't panic. Stay calm. _Hermione forced herself to release her death grip on the chair one finger at a time and to slowly inhale as each finger unclenched. By the time she got her six digit it her lungs felt slightly better. When she reached the eighth finger and her eighth shallow breath she was startled by the crash of the door being forced open, louder than a gunshot in the silent room. She screamed.

And suddenly he was there, all black robes and hair, gripping her shoulders, shushing her, trying to soothe her, his sandalwood scent surrounding her. She hadn't even realized she'd begun crying, hiccoughing sobs choking any words she might have had for him. He pulled her closer and cradled her face in his hands, murmuring words she couldn't understand, wiping the tears away even as they fell. Relief poured over her and she crushed the front of his robes in her fingers, willing him to stay, to never, ever leave again.

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><p>Late July 1996<p>

After the trio's individual summons to Hogwarts, the brilliant days of summer passed with an odd sort of tension that everyone living at the Burrow seemed determined to pretend wasn't there. Ron, Ginny, and Harry often played quidditch behind the house. Hermione would read nearby or watch them play. Bill and Arthur were at work most days. Molly and Fleur, Bill's half-Veela fiancee managed to find common ground in the idea of future grandchildren, which they talked about over meal preparations and general house work. The four students on holiday were occasionally wrangled to do the more seasonal chores, for example, degnoming the garden, washing windows inside and out, and deep cleaning the bedrooms, which involved sorting through outgrown robes and general debris of teenage living to decide what to keep or toss, scrubbing the floors, wiping down every surface, and even airing out mattresses. Not easy feats without the use their wands. "This is still more fun than trying to clean Headquarters last year," grinned a dust covered Ginny one day to Hermione when she discovered an old photograph at the back of her wardrobe of a toddling Ron in the garden, finger stuck firmly in his nose, clutching a Chudley Cannon blanket, baby Ginny sweetly crawling after him.

Fred and/or George would often stop by, usually to test a new product on an unsuspecting member of the household, filling the warm home with laughter and not a little bit of embarrassment. Among the highlights, Harry walked around with a unibrow for an entire day, Bill spent 20 hilarious minutes at dinner saying random phrases whenever he tried to speak, Ron spent two wholly humiliating hours with breasts, Ginny got to see what she would look like as a blonde, and Mr. Weasley happily tested the twin's MuggleCloak that would instantly vanish a persons robes and replace it with convincing muggle clothing. The successful jokeshop owners steered clear of their mother and wouldn't dream of offending their elder brother's enchanting fiancee. And for some unknown reason, they also avoided pranking Hermione. When Ron whined, they simply claimed they were saving the best for last. She only smiled, knowing that they were just a little scared of her.

The Daily Prophet and even the Quibbler reported new deaths and disappearances daily. Mr. Weasley or Bill would often bring home grisly news from the Ministry before it was published in the paper. The four students soaked up the information, all feeling that it might some day be important. Soon Hermione, Fleur, all the available Weasley's, and even Remus Lupin celebrated Harry's 16th Birthday. However, the celebration was marred, to Molly's displeasure, by the unchecked talk of more bleak tidings, deaths, and disappearances.

The Hogwarts owls arrived the following morning with Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione's book lists, two prefect badges for Ron and Hermione, and one quidditch captain's badge for Harry. When Hermione unfurled her list, the badge and a small, curled piece of parchment fell onto the kitchen table. She tucked the note in her pocket and caught Harry's eye. He nodded imperceptibly while Mrs. Weaslely discussed the logistics of a shopping day at Diagon Alley with Bill and Fleur, as Hermione quietly left the room.

She hid away in the bathroom, knowing Ginny could walk into their shared room at any moment. Hermione sat on the edge of the tub and slid the tiny note out of her pocket. The parchment was blank except for a small splotch of ink on the top right hand corner. She held it up to the light and examined the strange paper. Hermione flipped it over curiously, then flipped it back. Then, she pulled it an inch from her face to more closely study the splash of black ink. As she did so, her breath met with the parchment and ink for just a moment, producing a few faded words in the middle that disappeared as soon as she drew back in surprise. Hermione grinned. How very clever! She gently blew upon the ink spot and read the familiar, cramped and spidery handwriting that appeared.

_Ms. Granger,_

_I see no reason to wait until September 1st to begin our joint venture. I have already gathered any books and journals at my disposal that are pertinent to the project. However there are a number of volumes that are unavailable. Too many questions would be raised if I were to purchase these titles. Yet, your reputation as a consummate bookworm precedes you. Listed below are books that you must purchase at Flourish and Blotts at your convenience. The Headmaster will reimburse you. Read the books and take down any pertinent notes before the start of term. Be sure to encrypt your research. I trust that I do not have to explain how or why. If you are not actively researching, lock away the texts and notes in a secure location, but do not use heavy wards as these will draw unwanted attention. Do not send your findings to me. Hand carry the information to Hogwarts. Bring the books and notes to your first NEWT level potions lesson and we shall discuss our timetables and findings thereafter._

_Memorize these titles and destroy this note upon reading._

_SS_

Five books were listed along with their prices and her eyes goggled. She'd better be reimbursed or she wouldn't have a knut to her name afterwards. Still blowing upon the parchment she memorized the titles, then crumpled the paper into a small ball, placing it back into her pocket to be thrown into the fire later.

She contemplated the tone of Professor Snape's letter and the man himself, something she'd done almost constantly, unbeknownst to her friends. She had tried, since her summons to the Headmaster's office, to recall relevant data to protective and strengthening potions, filing them away in her head. She often found her mind wandering to the coming task or the man who would be her partner.

Professor Severus Snape, she knew, had Dumbledore's complete trust. He was a member of the Order of the Phoenix. However, the man was cold and harsh. He had a sharp tongue that could flay a person's pride to shreds in a mere sentence. He was especially cruel and unfair to Harry and extended that viciousness to his friends. He sometimes seemed to carry an unwarranted hatred for them that bordered on mania. Snape was a frightening man when enraged. Hermione hadn't forgotten the wild-eyed fury he displayed in the Hospital Ward when he accused Harry and herself of helping Black escape from Hogwarts to Minister Fudge. It was an odd thing that she recalled the terror she felt when he raged so much more clearly than almost any other moment of that insane night. Far beyond werewolves, murderers, dementors, and flying, oh gods, the flying! - she remembered the crazed look in his eyes when he knew, _just knew, _that they'd gotten away with a stunt he believed to the core was _wrong._ And she'd felt, incredibly, a twinge of guilt for having put him through that.

Despite all this, Hermione knew him to be a brilliant Potions Master. An incredible teacher. He was meticulous and precise. Creative and passionate about his subject matter. She hadn't noticed these qualities in him until just the year before. Four years in his class and she only just took real notice of him as a person and not just another professor. Because she'd had enough of Ron's behavior at the time and because she finally didn't have to focus on making sure others around her were keeping up, she had time to let her focus wander, to observe her professor without outside influence. The potions master was never happy. Oh, he could be smug, even peaceful, or pensive or thoughtful, but he was never just happy. He was most smug when he was grilling Harry. Most peaceful when brewing. Most pensive when observing their works in progress.

She liked him like that. Not smug, of course, but peaceful and pensive. The professor was like that around his potions and that would be what they were working on together in the upcoming months - potions. Hermione could stand to be around Professor Snape more often if he was peaceful and thoughtful. She'd just have to figure out a way to not be someone who could provoke him into a rage, that's all.

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><p>AN: Oh, yah, don't enrage the man with anger management issues, Herms. Good plan.<p>

*shudder* 'Herms' - where is the dislike button? What do you think of the nickname 'Mione'? It's grown on me. I think it's sweet. 'Hermie' though (yes I can't believe it either), gawdawful. Truly. Don't use Hermie. Unless you're not talking about HP characters and are considering it as a name for your pet hermit crab. Yup.

Thanks for reading - tell me what you think about the story so far. Review please! ~lovelielove


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